


Look at Me

by LauraRoslinForever



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 08:37:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15659664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraRoslinForever/pseuds/LauraRoslinForever
Summary: Set three days after the events of 4.01 Abby finds it hard to move past the things she had done and what faces them.





	Look at Me

**Author's Note:**

> "Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness." ~ Desmond Tutu

She’s comforted by his arms around her. By his deep, even breaths on her neck. She wants to sleep. Her body craves it so badly; she’s exhausted. It’s been four days since they woke up from Alie’s control. Four nights she’s tried and failed to keep the dreams of what she’d done from haunting her.

Eventually, her body wins over her mind and her eyes drift shut. She's not sure how long she sleeps, but just as it always does, the nightmares come, and once again she wakes screaming.

He’s there. He’s right there pulling her to him. Whispering her name, telling her over and over he’s got her, that it was a dream.

She knows this. God, does she, but tears still stream down her face. She’s completely bare to him. They sleep naked. Have since their second night there because after the first they both realized their clothes would just come off again sometime during the night. They were insatiable.

His murmurings calm her rapidly beating heart but the images and the sounds of him screaming are still there when she closes her eyes. Of her hovering over him, questioning him about Clarke, her eyes seeing him, seeing the desperation in his warm, loving eyes pleading with her to “Wake up” but being unable to care.

She’s in The City of Light when he gives in. It’s for her he finally rescinds and his utter devotion to her after everything makes the tears come faster.

“Abby, Abby, look at me.”

He’s taking her by the shoulders. Somehow she’s in his lap, straddling him with her head on his chest. She moves away reluctantly from his embrace, and blinks and blinks away the tears as he stares into her eyes.

One of his hands comes up, fingertips brush away the hair that’s fallen around her face before cupping her face in his hands, then tells her, “I’m all right.”

He knows, of course, and she nods and swallows because damnit she can’t move past this. She tried to apologize to him once before, but they’d been busy getting their people out of the city and focusing on what comes next, that she hadn’t gotten to tell him how sorry she was.

Her hands lift and wrap around his wrists gently. “I did this to you,” she blurts, and it confuses him she thinks because his brow furrows.

But it’s only a moment before he’s shaking his head, brushing her tears away with his thumbs and telling her, “No, this wasn’t you. Just like it wasn’t you who tortured Clarke or stepped off that barrel.” His eyes flick down and she knows he’s staring on the fading bruise on her neck.

And it’s when he drops a hand and rests it there, his thumb sliding across her healing skin she thinks how much she loves him that her mind whispers, _six months,_ and her anger replaces her guilt.

The dwindling time before the next disaster is another constant worry that creeps into her mind every time she looks at the man she loves. _It’s unfair,_ she thinks. How can they live through all of this only to be faced with another demise? And how can she and Marcus live enough moments together for a lifetime and try to save the world?

She’d laugh if it wasn’t so Goddamn sad.

Dreams and imminent death aside, she’s happy and so ridiculously in love with the man staring at her that she wants to scream. She’s not ready for it to end. She’s not ready to lose him. To lose them.

She reaches up in the same revenant way she did all those weeks before and takes his face in her hands. His eyes search hers, but she says nothing. Instead, she leans forward and presses her lips to his. There’s a sound, a groan, and she’s not sure if it’s his or hers and it doesn’t matter. His mouth softens, his tongue swipes over the seam of her lips, and she opens for him. Their tongues collide and their kiss turns from soft to hard in a matter of heartbeats.

The world may be coming apart around them but here and now it’s just them and their love and their need for one another.

She feels him beneath her. He’s already hard, and she shifts on her knees and rises without breaking their kiss. His hands fall to cup her ass pulling her against him trapping his length between them. Her heart thunders in her chest so loud she’s sure he can hear it. God, she loves him.

His lips leave hers, and he kisses a soft trail down her jaw and down further still. Her head drops back a sigh leaves her lips as he nips at the skin just below her ear a shiver down her spine chasing her breath. They made love before bed but she wants him again. Reaching down, she takes him in hand, and he's all softness over steel. His shuttered sigh and then a murmured, _fuck_ is her reward. He’s not a man that swears much, but she finds she loves that she can bring it out of him with simply her touch.   

She finds the rhythm he likes, but it’s not long before he’s panting and placing his own hand over hers to stop her. “You,” he tells her, “I want you.”

He kisses her again and groans, his hand reaches between them, fingers sliding over her finding her already wet for him. He isn't the only one easily turned on by their partner. She rises on her knees, impatient, and he gets that, angles himself and she sinks down with a gasp and a deep moan from him. She presses her lips together and her eyes flutter close. The feeling of him filling her as she lowers fully is… it's… the word exquisite comes to mind but then she berates herself for even thinking it because who says things like that about sex?

It's great, it’s amazing… She gasps then, her inner dialogue coming to a halt because he grasps her hips and grinds her down on him and _Mmm_ , okay, _exquisite_ , she thinks, he feels fucking exquisite.

She moves then. A slow steady up and down of her hips. His head rises from where he’s been watching them come together and closes his eyes. He says her name like a prayer, and she thinks maybe it is. She leans forward and drops tongue filled kisses to his neck and even takes a nip at his earlobe eliciting a hiss that has her biting her lip fighting the smile that threatens to erupt from the power she has on him.

His hands slide from her hips down, cup her ass and lift her so she rises enough that he can dip his head and capture a nipple with his mouth. Her hands leave his shoulders and thread into his dark hair holding him against her as he sucks and nips then kisses his way from one to the other, raising a hand to cup the breast left without his attention. She moans in the back of her throat, relishes the attention he gives each until he’s had his fill and only then does she sink back down and moves her hips. She ups the tempo a little more. His head rises and he captures her lips with his in a heated kiss that becomes deeper as his hand comes between them. His fingers stroke over her clit, rubbing circles that make her belly turn to liquid heat.

“Yes,” she breathes against his lips. He plants kisses against her jaw, her neck, and she hums and encourages and moves faster. The ache in her belly is building, tightening, threatening to carry her over the edge. He moves his hand away from her, the loss of sensation to her clit has her leaning back and about to ask his why he stopped but then she sees he’s clenching and unclenching his fist and the guilt she had before comes crashing over her all over again, has her slowing again and looking up at the ceiling and blinking back tears.

“Abby, love, look at me,” he says, and she lowers her head. When her eyes meet his they are dark, filled with want and need and love.

The term of endearment has those tears she’s been so desperately trying to hold back filling her eyes, and if her heart wasn’t already beating wildly in her chest it would have been now. “I’m looking at you,” she manages, though her voice is shaky.

“Good, don’t stop,” he tells her and then with so much devotion it almost leaves her breathless he adds,  “We’re going to get through this... together.”

She nods. She believes him, believes in them. The tears slow, and she begins to move once again. And as they find that perfect tempo, she thinks about how much she loves him. How she believes in hope because that’s what got them where they are, what kept them alive, what brought them together, and what will take them through whatever hell they have to face next.

When she comes, it’s with his name on her lips as the pleasure courses through her. He follows not long after, his hands gripping her hips his moans filling the large room until they’re both spent and fall back onto the bed of furs. Her head is on his chest when she feels him plant a kiss on her forehead and she closes her eyes, content to stay there until she can catch her breath.

She feels another kiss not long later, and it’s with a start she realizes she had fallen asleep. He rolls them onto their sides with his arms around her and they shift until she’s tucked against him, and he pulls a fur over them. This time when she sleeps, she doesn’t dream and wakes to find Marcus looking at her with the same hope in his eyes that she feels in her heart.


End file.
